First, Shane pulled out a couple of packs of soda. They were trains. "Choo, choo!" When Shane lost interest, he ran off to chase Roxy.
Later, Shane came tearing into the kitchen. I heard a "thunk!" and a "splat!" as my son tripped on his 'trains.'
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"Daddy, I tripped!" Shane said matter-of-fact.
"Okay, we need to put away the boxes so no one will trip."
Shane popped up. "Look!" Shane bounded over the boxes. "I not trip ever again!" he said and bolted.
I snorted. The suppressed laugh cost me. Shane was around the corner, before it occurred to me to call him back.
I pushed in the cans myself. Carrie's not made of the same rubber material Shane is!
Shane's logic reminded me of a teenager's. I wonder what that bodes for our future.
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